


Crack Her Heart Open

by IAmWhelmed



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed/pseuds/IAmWhelmed
Summary: Star deals with the aftermath of the mid-season finale-- alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first work for this fandom. Super melodramatic? Yes, absolutely, no question. I just love love triangles, you know? <3 This is the first draft and I haven't looked at it at all so this is totally subject to change.

She was sure Marco was clueless this time around, but then again, she might not have been giving him enough credit.

He knocked on her door often—three distinct taps after one more cautious; he knew something was still horribly wrong, but he never played the verbal guessing game. She could see her every word registering behind his eyes, though, cogs turning so slow she worried he might freeze. He thought it was just Glossaryck, just her spellbook in Ludo’s petite monster hands, and she was happy to let him think that.

She wasn’t about to tell him her stomach twisted in painful knots when she thought about that night—thought about him and Jackie and the way his eyes softened just so when they were skating down the sidewalk. She’d dwelled on the thought, let the idea of pouring her heart out to Marco like she always eventually did, because they were friends, simmer at the tip of her tongue like hot sauce she felt sliding down her chest. That was just it, though, they were friends, and friends didn’t tell their friends they were excruciatingly in love with them.

She let him pat her back and make jokes that she’d genuinely laugh at because she loved feeling some semblance of normalcy, but then he’d get up to go do his homework and she’d be right back at square one when her bedroom door slid shut. She thought about reaching out and grabbing his wrist, not his hand (because she’d remember), and asking him to another dimension, any dimension she could think of that might keep her best friend there a little longer.

She never did.

She was scared it wouldn’t be the same, that she wouldn’t be able to forget herself for a while and just enjoy quality time with him, that he’d see right past any attempt to and then she’d really, truly have to tell him what was bothering her because she could see Marco was already tired of letting her bottle it up. If he got her alone long enough, in a place she couldn’t just tell him not to enter her room, she was sure she’d snap like a twig. He’d wrap his arms around her and she’d just break down, again, with her head tucked under his chin and her wet nose digging into his trademark sweater. She’d dump it all on him, every itchy green pang, every pause of her heart; she’d dump it all into his lap and watch him figure out how to inevitably break her heart a little more.

Not on purpose, of course, because Marco would never, ever hurt her on purpose, but she knew and he knew and if she told him she loved him he’d have to let her down easy even though it would still kill her.

She wondered vaguely if her mom had ever been through that, wanting somebody and just knowing they were inches out of her reach. Nightmares from childhood were revisiting her lately, anxieties surrounding the King of Mewni, the man who’d eventually sit beside her on a tall throne. When she woke from them she’d blink, and stumble over her thoughts a little bit, but she didn’t wake up angry like before. She wondered if that’s because the idea of betrothal wasn’t such a threat anymore. As much as she hated, despised, detested the idea of her future being decided for her, just this one little thing might not be so bad; in fact, a betrothal might save her some heartbreak. It might be loveless at first, as most betrothals are, but maybe he’d grow on her. Maybe knowing nothing about him would make things mysterious, exhilarating—romantic.

Then she’d think about a boy behind a mask under blood red lights, and she’d decide again that it’d be best if she never grew to love her betrothed.

She’d grown a new respect for Tom as of recent, and had even thought about talking to him; what would she say? All she’d get out would be a brief apology before she got awkward and nervous and so, so unsure of where else to take the conversation.

He’d still listen, though. He loved her and she knew this. Tom would sit beside her on her bed, pull the covers up and drop them down on her shoulders because he probably remembered she loved being warm and toasty. She’d lean into him, it’d be reminiscent of their days spent as a couple, a team, and she might feel a little better afterwards because Tom and Marco were cool now so he probably, maybe, wouldn’t go on a fiery rampage when she told him her best friend had hurt her unintentionally.

She wasn’t constantly distraught, at least not when they were at school or in public period, it was just when she was alone in her room with her head hanging over the side of her bed, legs kicked up in the air so she’d topple over and lands face-first on the floor because she was so bored. When she sat at her desk, listening to their teachers grumble on and on for what felt like hours about percentages and mitochondria and commas, she felt normal. She still got extra corn from the lunch ladies and “accidentally” blasted her locker door off because it was jammed for the thirtieth time, and when Janna brought her in on pranks she still cackled just as happily as she did before.

It was just when she was left alone to crave Marco’s nachos, his hands on hers, his hugs, his laughter, his cool guy attitude, that she wasn’t quite herself.

She wondered how he might feel if she went home for a little while. Would he try to top her? She could see him doing that, but she’d remember his hands holding Jackie’s and she’d have a hard time imagining him saying anything that would make her stay, even though she knew he’d say it all. She wanted so badly for him to hold her at her waist and press his forehead to hers and just say “We’ll get through this together, Star. I’m right here”.

But he wasn’t right there. She could see it when he bit the end of his pencil in class, played with his food in the cafeteria, stared right past the TV on Friendship Thursdays…

He was looking at Jackie in class, drawing her face with his pasta, forgetting he and his best friend had been waiting in anticipation of the next episode of that ridiculous drama for a whole week.

He must have been surprised to see her standing there when he opened the door to her room, one foot in the portal home and the other still trembling at the thought of leaving the small place she called home.

“Star? Where are you going?”

“Just, uh,” she laughed it off, voice thick with nerve, “just gonna get along home… to Mewni… gotta tell my mom about Glossaryck sometime, right?”

“I just got done with my essay, want me to go with?”

Part of her wanted to shout “yes” with resounding enthusiasm, but the more logical part of her said no—because she wasn’t coming back for a while.

“Uh, no~! You don’t have to… do… that…”

“I want to!” He was smiling at her, chocolate eyes as warm as he always made her feel. “We haven’t gone anywhere the last few weeks.” That wasn’t any fault of hers. “Besides, you’re my best friend.” The pang she felt was red hot, scorching enough to burn and char her stomach, but sweet enough that her heart leaped in her chest. “I should get to know a little more about your world, ya know?”

“No, seriously Marco,” Star held her hands up, slowly stepping back into the portal “I got this.”

“Well, if you say so…” He shrugged, and though part of her was glad he dropped it, a much bigger part of her was sorely disappointed he’d given up so quickly. She mustered up a smile, the biggest she could manage with her heart stretching well beyond its limits, but bit the inside of her cheek to keep from letting the air in her lungs go; it’d sound like a whimper. She twisted on the tips of her toes, hair whipping around and falling down the line of her neck, over her shoulder.

It was just for a little while, just long enough for her to lick her wounds, build a battle plan. She was a Butterfly, and war was in her blood. Marco didn’t have to be on her mind all the time—logically, her spellbook should have been. Her time back on Mewni, planning an attack, falling back into some old, familiar habits from a time before she knew him, she was sure would help stitch up the heartstrings that’d snapped. When she came home, when she came back to Marco, she’d be ready—not over him, exactly, because she wasn’t sure she ever would be, but she’d be ready.

She came to a sharp stop just as her second heel was leaving the floor, eyes wide because she wasn’t sure how to register the roadblock.

Marco’s hand fell from her wrist where he’d grabbed her to her hand, fingers wrapping around her own like a safety blanket she never remembered having.

“Star,” her heart leaped again. “If you need me, for any reason at all, just call me.”

She paused, shoulders tense and chin held straight like she was in finishing school again. Marco squeezed her hand, and the world seemed to stop with her for a moment. Her breath hitched, body’s trembling all but abruptly settled. She had to leave; she had to go to Mewni and build a strategy and prepare for a war she was sure was coming. Marco couldn’t keep her there, no matter how much she wanted him to. He was the reason she had to go, the reason her chest felt like it was caving in on itself, the reason her legs were shaking, and more than anything, the reason why she had to remind herself what waited for her after her time on Earth. She swallowed hard.

He must have known. There was no other way. She’d launched herself into him too fast for him to have caught her like he did, one arm snaking around her shoulders and the other clutching her by the waist so firmly she wouldn’t have dared try to pull away then. Her hands gripped at his sweater, clutching and pulling the fabric all in a desperate attempt to bring him closer. She dug her head into his shoulder, quivering as the first of what would be a great many sobs wracked her body.

“Marco…”

“I’m here, Star. You know that.”

That was right. He was there, and even if she told him the truth, he wouldn’t go very far. That wasn’t Marco, it never was. They were best friends, and he was never going to drop her even if she told him that she was excruciatingly in love with him. “I-!”

“Star,” he rubbed circles into her back. “You don’t need to tell me now. You don’t need to tell me ever! Just know that no matter what, we’re friends, and I’m here for you.”

She sighed and let her head fall against his neck, humming when his head fell against her own.


End file.
